Cat & Mouse
by chrisgirl208
Summary: Cammie Morgan is good. But what happens when she is sent - on a homework assignment - into a world unknown to her. A world where there are a few people who have a price tag on her life. Rated T just in case. Hey, Cammie is a SPY!
1. Trailer

**Hey guys! This is my first FanFic, so we'll see how it goes. **

**DISCLAIMER: I totally don't own Gallagher Girls. At all. Only the fabulous Ally Carter does. However, I _do_ own Justin Parker.**

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You know you're a good spy when you've played 'Cat and Mouse', and won as the cat.

You know you're even better when you've played Cat and Cat, and won.

But what do you do when it's Cat and Mouse again... and this time _you're _the mouse?

**Cammie Morgan**

'Who was that kid? And why was he apologizing to me?'

**Justin Parker**

"So. You're a Gallagher Girl. Anything else I should know about you?"

**Zach Goode**

"I came because you're mine. And because I told you we'd meet again."

**Macey McHenry**

"Are you going to go or not? It's obvious he likes you."

**and Rebecca Baxter**

"I can't believe Mr. Solomon is doing this to us!"

**in**

**Cat & Mouse**

**You know you're good... if you're still breathing at the end of the game.**

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**Like it? Love it? Hate it? Think it has potential? Let me know! :D**


	2. The Dream

"_Cammie." _I sat up. I knew that voice, but I had no idea how. The voice couldn't register, but it sounded male and teenager-ish. Where was I? There was no room like this in the Gallagher Academy.

The place where I was in was a medium-sized room with dim, cold lighting. In fact, the whole room seemed cold. The floor was a gray/blue tile, and the walls were white. I noticed bugs in the obvious places: in cobwebs (how could spiders survive up here? It had to be below 40 degrees!), under door hinges, on the insides of the cylinder lighting fixtures. There were no windows, but I knew it was night. I could feel the floor vibrating, so I bent down with my ear to the cold tile, closed my eyes, and listened. It sounded like hip-hop music, blaring loudly. Suddenly, my observations were interrupted.

"_Cammie? I'm… I know you're probably wondering what you're doing here, but… I just wanted to let you know I'm sorry."_

Who was this guy? He seemed to know me. Why was he sorry?! Then I heard another voice, also male, but deeper and a bit louder. _"Good job, son. Maybe you'll follow in the old man's foot steps after all."_ The boy spoke again. _"Um, yea Dad. Just…"_ he seemed to stop, realizing that he couldn't say something. What?! _"Just don't put this on me, I guess." _Dad Voice came on again. _"If you want it to be that way, son." "I do." "Well then let me do my job."_

I heard the door open; it sounded as if it had metal plating inside its outer wood coating. They seriously needed to oil down it's hinges. I saw a man - a little over six feet tall - enter the room. He kept his face hid out of my view continually. Then he came up behind me, slapped something on me, and all went black.

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I sat straight up in my bed. My head was alive with questions – at the ungodly hour of 3 am, mind you - about the dream I just had. Who was that guy? And why was he apologizing to me? How did I know his voice? And most importantly, WHERE WAS I?!! I guess I said that last part a bit loud, because Macey McHenry answered.

"At dorm room 208 of the Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young Women," she said. _Well, duh._ But I guess Macey McHenry is smarter than I think (after all, she did graduated completely into my junior class, and is in Mr. Solomon's class with me, because she finished, "but that wasn't what you were asking, was it?"

We ended up talking for about half an hour before finally falling asleep. I eventually came to the conclusion that it was just a dream.

Right?


	3. The Assignment

"Get to know all about your surroundings," Mr. Solomon began. "When you know exactly where you are and what's around the corner, you're enabled to spend more time fighting, thinking, and landing on your feet. In addition, knowing your surroundings makes it easier to plan battle-winning strategies."

I thought of my dream last night. One of my biggest questions was my location. This would probably be a good made-for-note-taking lesson from Mr. Solomon as he shared spy wisdom from his hot spy self.

"Now," he continued as I poised my pen for writing notes. "I know that some of you – " (He looked straight at me) "already know your way around campus better than all the staff combined. So your homework assignment for the next two weeks is to get to know the town of Roseville, Virginia."

A few girls let out shrieks, yelps, and 'woot-woor's and exchanged high-fived. To them, getting to know the locals and hang out around town was the life, especially since teenage guys are included in the 'locals' package. To me, going into town was a dreaded mission, assigned by me: avoid Josh at all costs. I mean, my ex-boyfriend is dating the only friend other than Josh that I really have in Roseville: DeeDee. Now I'll tell you how awkward it is running into Josh and DeeDee: eleven on a scale of ten. Yea, _that_ awkward.

Anyways, Mr. Solomon waited for us to finish not-so-patiently, leaning up against his desk. He cleared his throat. "Are you ladies ready for your homework assignment or shall I pass this onto the seniors?" My class immediately settled down while I continued to mentally bang my head against my desk.

"This was a very, very, _very_ controversial decision, but eventually your headmistress and I decided that this would be the best way for you all to get to know the locals." _Spit it out_, I thought.

"For the next two weeks, you will no longer be the graduating class of 2010 of the Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young Women." There were gasps and 'what?'s all across the room.

"You will be the graduating class of 2010 – at Roseville High School."

I don't know what Mr. Solomon said next. Because I passed out.


	4. Love Could Be in the Air

**Yay! New chapter! And here. We. Go. :D**

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"Miss Morgan!" I heard a voice say sharply. Just their very voice hurt my head, and I began to realize I had a very nasty headache. I opened my eyes and saw Mr. Solomon glaring at me. (Trust me, it was _so_ not romantic.)

"Miss Morgan, I would appreciate it if you would refrain from passing out while in my class," Mr. Solomon stated. _Oh boy, I can totally feel the concern for my well-fare. _Roughly, Mr. Solomon helped me up into my cold desk, then he walked over to his desk and quieted my class. Macey and Bex looked over at me and mouthed 'are you okay?'. I signed back, 'I have a headache, but I'm fine.' (That's one thing they don't tell you: the Gallagher Academy teaches sign language - in the seventh grade, mind you - as well.) Mr. Solomon finally took control of class, and then he began speaking. He had every girl's attention as he talked.

"This has already been agreed to with the RISD, or the Roseville Independent School District. Monday will be your first day at school. Your class has the rest of this day off to spend in Roseville in preparation for Monday. You will each be given $150 to buy whatever you deem necessary for the next two weeks of your life." His announcement was greeted by cheers, whoops, and hollers. I just sank further back into my seat.

Two weeks of education at Roseville High School? Not even Bex's roundhouse kick seemed scarier.

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"Ohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh!!!!!" Liz squealed. "Y'all are going to be spending your next to weeks at Roseville High School?!" Macey nodded. Liz continued, "As in where Josh Abrams goes to school? In YOUR grade?" I groaned. Loudly. And buried my head in my pillow. Apparently that must have gotten my roommate's attention, because Bex walked over to me, sat on my bed, and tried to comfort me.

"Relax, it's only going to be two weeks. And maybe Liz could hack into RHS's computer system - I bet they're running with Macintosh, and Macs are sooo easy to crack - and she could set you up with a schedule so that you don't have any classes with Josh or lunch period and stuff." That was actually a brilliant idea!

"You would?" I asked, poking my head out of my pillow. Liz replied, "Sure. Like Bex said, it's gonna be reeeaaallly easy." She smiled. I did too. "You guys are the best!" Then Macey spoke. "Yea, and considering the fact that we've already got our clothes for these next two weeks, all that's left is to get dresses." I smiled until I heard that last part.

"Dresses?!" I was surprised to hear Liz and Bex's voices joining my own. Macey totally knew something we didn't. And she told us, "Yea. Liz, what's the date today?" Liz replied, "January 30th, why?" Macey just smiled. "Think about it." Unfortunatlely, I did.

"No. No way. Not happening. You've _got_ to be kidding me!" I couldn't process my thoughts. Meanwhile, Bex and Liz couldn't seem to get it. "What?!" Liz asked. Bex looked at me, obviously curious and demanding to know what. Macey just smiled devilishly. It was a tad bit freaky.

"Guys, our last day of school is going to be Friday. The thirteenth. Of February." Just. Great.

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I knocked on the door loudly, then just stomped right in. The smell of burnt chili greeted my nose, and I wanted to gag. I don't even LIKE chili! But I needed to talk to my mom/headmistress.

"Yes, I know you don't like chili, dear, but Joe does." Joe? Joe.. ohmygosh, Joe SOLOMON?! "Um, Mom... why is that important?"

"Because Joe will be joining us for dinner tonight, Cammie." No. NO. This was MY time with MY mom, the only time of the week when I have my mom all to myself! And now some hot teacher is going to steal that from me? I don't think so.

"MOM!" I yelled. Without even looking at me, she seemed to know what I was going to say next.

"Honey, relax. He's just going to be joining us for dinner because we have some extra work to go over. He's not taking your place."

"But I needed to talk to you! About school!" Did she care? I mean, hello, she just approved what's probably going to be the most emotionally hard assignment of my LIFE!

"Then talk, Cammie. Because Mr. Solomon will be here in three minutes and forty-two seconds." Creepy how spies can do that. Especially when said spy is your mom. Anyways, I had to talk. Fast.

"Mom, WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU THINKING?! You're sending me - us - to PUBLIC SCHOOL, where my EX-BOYFRIEND goes to school! Over Valentine's Day season! And they're going to have their school dance on our last day of school there! And, and... And this is going to be over my birthday!" **(A/N: Ally Carter said Cammie's b-day is going to be in January/February and she hasn't decided yet, so Cammie's birthday is going to be February 8th.)**

"Sweetie, you may not like this, but this will be good for you in the long run. You need interaction with normal teens, and this will bring closure between you and Josh. Anna also needs to resolve some issues of her own."

"How do you know about Anna?"

"Sweetie, I know about practically everything that happens here or involves my students. Anna Fetterman included." At that point, Joe Solomon walked in. I could tell that he had purposefully gotten 'fancied up' for this dinner. I wondered if he was viewing it as a date. I wanted to puke again.

"Rachel. Cameron," he said with a nod to each of us, "how are you?" He walked over to my mom, and greeted her... with two kisses on the cheek. Ew. You know what's worse? Mom didn't seem to mind. After Mom served the food, Solomon and Mom just went all talkative on me. I just picked at my food (which seriously did not look - or smell - appealing).

"Mom, may I be excused?" I asked. Without even glancing at me, Mom just replied yes. So I left. As I walked out of the Hall of History, the only sound I could hear was that of my teacher and mother, laughing.

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**I know, this is a short chappy, but my next chapter should be longer. Because Cammie's going to go to school! ;D**

**Reviews for my New Year's resolutions of this story would be apreciated. :D**

:


	5. Meet Justin

**This one is for Kelsey Alice Rosalie Cullen, who has reviewed on almost every chapter, and for my sister, who has helped me out some. :D**

**Here you go!**

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I had to wake up, but I didn't want to. Better yet, I didn't want Monday to come at all. To miss my first day of school at Roseville High School - or any day, for that matter - would have been just fine with me. But my mom had assigned two limos to be the buses of my class in order to keep with the snobby/rich image, and those 'buses' were coming in at 8:30, or in an one and a half hours.

I got out of bed and picked out and outfit. I seriously didn't care about what people thought of me; a simple t-shirt and jeans was fine for me. After Bex got out of the shower, I took a bath and tried to imagine that I was going to be going through an ordinary day of school at the Gallagher Academy. But I wasn't.

Eventually, our 'bus' came, and I said goodbye to the only high school I had ever known. And to Liz and to most of my class mates. I stayed right between Bex and Macey, who were totally pumped about this. (Oh yea, and they looked flippin' amazing. As usual.) At least I felt somewhat at home with my best friends at my side. As I climbed into the limo, I took a look at my classmates. Was I the only one who _didn't_ dress up? They all looked fabulous. I just looked like Cammie Morgan, spy in training. _Relax, _I told myself. _You are the best spy in your school, exception of the seniors. You're smart and quick on your feet. Your mom is the principal of the best girl's spy school in America, possibly the world. _Then why was I freaking out on myself?!

The ride to school was short. I wish it had lasted forever, but no. Everyone piled out of the limo, and I made sure I was out last. We walked up to the school. _So this is where Josh goes to school. Huh._

In a way, the school reminded me of my own. It was old, big, and had fancy architect. There were four huge pillars at the main domed entrance, extending from the top of the eight steps to the bottom of the roof of the tall-enough-to-be-three-stories school. There were two massive oak trees in the front lawn, and most of the teenagers seemed to be congregating there, loudly. Until we got out. Then everything got really quiet, really fast, and everyone looked at us, almost as if inspecting us. I could see a few guys checking Bex and Macey out from the corner of my eye. _I wonder if this is how Zach felt when the Blackthorne Boys showed up._ I scanned the crowd for Josh, but I couldn't spot him. Same thing with Dee-Dee and Dillon. But I _did_ notice a lady in a business suit and heels walk up to my mom, who had accompanied us. After saying a few words to her privately, the lady introduced herself.

"Hello, ladies. I am Mrs. Carol Bartlett, principal of Roseville High School. For the next two weeks, you will be our students. We are pleased to have you here," Mrs. Bartlett began. She actually _did_ seem happy to have us there, which is quite surprising considering that most people in Roseville despise us. "Please follow me, ladies. Quickly, now."

We followed her inside - with everyone watching - to the office section of school. There we were greeted by fifteen teenagers - guys and girls. Fifteen was the exact number of students from my class that were here. Then Mrs. Bartlett began, "As you can see, there are fifteen students here, one for each of you. These students have graciously offered themselves to be at your disposal, figuratively speaking. You have each been assigned someone to give you a tour of campus and to be of assistance this first week. Next week you will be on your own."

That's when I noticed it: Josh, Dee-Dee, _and_ Dillon were all guides. Coincidence? I think not. I looked over at Josh and briefly caught his eye. I tried to see him - to look into his mind, one might say - but he turned away from me, looked at the wall, and grabbed Dee-Dee's hand. Thanks, Josh. Then I tuned back into Mrs. Bartlett.

"As I was saying, you have each been assigned a student. Each of our students will one by one call out the name of one of you until you each have your guides. This has been designated by a computer, and there will be no 'but's or 'if's. Understand?" We all nodded. "Then let's begin. Todd, call out for your student."

So began our assignments. And although a computer may have assigned our pairings, I seriously don't think so. Here's why: Dillon and Anna were assigned. You should have seen how far out each of their eyes bulged when they realized who they had. Then Dillon got this sorta-evil grin on his face as he escorted her out. Note to self: watch out for fellow Gallagher Girl, particulary Anna. Then Dee-Dee got Macey. For a minute, I thought Bex would get Josh, but she ended up getting some girl with blonde hair named Janet Cordell.

And of course, I had to be the last person to be assigned, so I sorta already knew who I was getting. But for the sake of procedure, a dark-brown-haired, green-eyed teenage guy stood up and asked, "Cameron Morgan?"

"Present," I replied. I checked out my escort again. He had dark brown hair that went about an inch past his ears, he had piercing green eyes. He was taller than me, but only by a few inches. He wasn't fat, but he wasn't thin; he wasn't puny, but he wasn't muscular either. But he had this aura about him that seemed totally relaxed, even though he was excorting a Gallagher Girl.

"Well, Miss Morgan, here is your schedule. Please follow me," he said, and took me into the halls to my locker. Then he introduced himself.

"By the way, Miss Morgan-" I interrupted. "Please call me Cammie. Please." He looked at me weird, but complied.

"Okay, _Cammie_, I'm Justin. Parker, that is. We're in the same grade together." Um, okay. He continued, smiling just a bit coyly, and asked, "So you're a Gallagher Girl. Anything else I should know about you?" Pssh. Not unless you have a minimal of Level Two clearence, but I'll be nice.

"Nice to meet you, Justin. And sure. I'm a junior - like you - and I'm 16, almost 17. I don't want to be here, but I'm happy that at least you're being nice about this. So... what classes do I have?" I asked. I deemed this to be important.

"Okay. Glad to make you feel that I'm being nice or whatever it is you said. Your classes? Um, let me check," he said as he pulled out a sheet from his notebook. He took a look, and then - I kid you not - his jaw dropped. I was curious, so I questioned, "What? What is it?"

"Uh... um, you have every single class that I do. And lunch period. And homeroom." How did Liz _do_ that?!

"Josh Abrams wouldn't happen to be in any of those classes, would he?" I crossed my fingers in guarantee of Liz's computer skills.

"Actually, no. How do you know Josh?" Darn. I opened my stupid mouth. Remind me to not mention Josh. Ever.

"Long story. If you keep up this nice business, I just might tell it."

"Okay." We arrived in class, and I noticed that Dee-Dee and Macey shared my class. And they were talking it up! I'd have to ask Macey about that later. I felt a tap on my shoulder, and I turned around to see Justin. "Yea?" I asked.

"First of all, sit here." He gestured to the seat right next to his. I sat down, mostly out of lack to sit anywhere else. He continued, "Second of all, since I'm being nice, can I give you my number? Y'know, so you can um... call me, and tell me that long story?..." he trailed off. Oh. My. Gosh.

My first day at school, and a guy is already asking me for my number. Bex's roundhouse kick is actually starting to look pretty good.

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**Okay, I know: filler chapter. Most of it's talking. But I needed Justin and Cammie to get acquainted. I know where I want to go from here ultimately, but I have absolutely NO idea of how to get there. Great. :P**


	6. The Challenge

I had to think of something. Quick. I mean, there's a sorta-hot guy who just asked for my number, and unlike most teenagers, I DON'T HAVE ONE! That would be a problem. And were ALL public-schoolers this... forward? I mean, we only met eachother five minutes ago. Fortunately, class had begun. Unfortunately, I didn't know what class I was in. The teacher saved me, though.

"Hello, class. To our newcomers," he started. "I am Mr. Marks, your Geometry teacher. I hope you will enjoy your next two weeks with us." Unlike Mrs. Bartlett, I could totally tell he was faking it. But maybe, if I'm reaaally nice, he'll actually enjoy having me in his class. He continued, "When I point to you, I want you to state your name and three facts about you. Then you may sit down."

I quickly established that I wanted a cover that would let me be who I am, while keeping mostly true to what I had already told Josh. My cover came to me naturally: I'm Cammie Morgan, and I'm enrolled at the Gallagher Academy because of an Academic Scholarship and an Employee's Discount. When I'm not living at school, I live at my grandparent's farm. My mother believes in self-defense (true), so she taught me karate (sorta true). I know Spanish and Italian, and I dream of someday becoming an interpreter. (Unless you count interpreting coded messages about nuclear weapons and the threat of war, that last part is totally not true.) Just as I was done, Mr. Marks pointed at me.

"Hey, I'm Cameron Morgan, or Cammie. My nick-name is the Chameleon, I want to become an interpreter someday, and since my mother taught me self-defense in karate, I can kick your butt." A few kids snickered, but I didn't care. I felt Justin tap me on the shoulder, and when I turned to him he smirked and said, "Oooh, I'm so scared." I found it funny, but still I replied, "Well you should be. Ask my friends." I thought that would shut him up about it. I guess not.

A few minutes later, a note fluttered onto my desk. _A note? Isn't that a bit old-fashioned?_ I thought. But whatever. The outside of the note read, '**TO: CHAMELEON. FROM: ESCORT**'. I glanced over at Justin, but he completely ignored me. I decided to open the note. It read,

_**Hey Chameleon:**_

_**So you can kick butt? I'd like to see you try. **_

_**Meet me in the gym ten minutes after school.**_

_**We'll see who can kick butt better: you or me.**_

_**If you win, I'll buy you lunch for your two weeks here.**_

_**If I win, you have to tell me that story. **_

_**And buy me lunch for a week. **_

_**Good luck! :)**_

_**- Your Escort**_

Pssh. So he wanted to take me on? Bring it! I glanced over at him, caught him attention, and nodded. He smiled, then tapped the guy sitting next to him and whispered something. I saw the guy's reaction, and it was completely of shock. The guy looked over at me, then at Justin, then at me again. I think I knew what Justin told the guy, especially when the guy passed it on and the same reaction happened. So my escort wanted witnesses? I could handle that. I turned to Justin, got his attention again, and whispered three words:

"Bring. It. On."

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Courtesy of Liz, I 'happened' to have the same lunch period with Bex and Macey. And their escorts, of course. (Just for the record, I have awesome friends. They actually TOLD their 'escorts' to go have lunch somewhere else. Dee-Dee and the other girl didn't seem to mind.) I guess news must have travelled fast about Justin's challenge (and my agreement), because they came up to _me_ to talk urgently instead of the other way around.

"Cammie, what are you thinking?!" Macey whisper-yelled once she got close enough. I asked Justin he could sit somewhere else, which he totally liked. I think taking me everywhere was beginning to wear on him. Anyways, back Bex and Macey.

"Sit down," I said. They did, but that didn't stop them. Or make them less nervous. Macey spoke first.

"Like I said, WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU THINKING?!" Bex chimed in, "Yea, the secret of Gallagher Academy is at stake." Unlike Macey, Bex hadn't been in class when I announced my three facts, so she was worried about that. Macey was just worried about the whole beating-up-a-guy thing.

"Relax, Bex. Here's my cover: I'm at the Gallagher on academic scholarship and an employee discount. My mom taught me karate for self-defense. I stay at my grandparent's farm during the summer; and since I know Italian and Spanish I want to become an interpreter. Satisfied?" I asked. Bex and Macey seemed impress, and looked at eachother, then nodded at me. I explained how Justin's challenge came about, and both of them were actually proud of me.

"So it's after school, huh?" asked Bex. I nodded, then Macey spoke up.

"You ARE going to go easy on him, right? The last thing we need is for people to wonder if there's a girl on steroids wandering the halls of Roseville High School." We all laughed, and I assured her that I was. Then I decided it was time to ask about their covers.

"Sooo... what are your covers?" I asked. This time Bex spoke up first.

"Well I'm keeping with the rich-snobby theme. I'm from Britain, my dad owns the British Broadcasting Company, I have a dog named Puddles, and my mother is the head of the Wealthy Ladies for Moral Causes society, which doesn't exist. At home, I have my own wing of our mansion, since I'm an only child. My boyfriend's cousin is related to Princess Dianna, rest her soul, so I've been able to visit with the Queen and take a personal tour of Buckingham Palace." Macey and I deemed this as acceptable; it completely fed in with the 'rich-and-snobby-with-a-huge-ego' lie. I asked Macey, "What's _your_ cover?" I should have guessed the answer.

"The only thing I'm hiding is what are school really is. My dad's the senator; everyone knows that. Easy as pie." Once again, Bex and I deemed this appropriate. Plus, it was true, which is a big bonus when you're trying to keep your stories straight in the life of a spy. We quickly ate lunch, and soon went back to our escorts.

"So those are your friends?" Justin asked. He continued, "Miss Junior Senator and Miss British Royalty?" Word seriously got around fast here. But Justin was talking like a jerk.

"Hey Justin, would you please do me a favor?" I asked sweetly. With a big puppy-eyed look on my face (taught to me directly by Macey McHenry), he complied easily. "Sure," he said.

"Can you please stop acting like Dillon? I don't like jerks." I looked at Dillon, who just 'happened' to be in hearing distance, and smirked. The guys around me all 'ooohed'. Dillon spoke up in his defense.

"And I don't like rich girls who carry around rats disguised as poodles," he shot back. The guys looked at me, daring me to top that. With pleasure.

"Really? That's interesting. Because I'm at the Gallagher Academy on an academic scholarship, and I'm allergic to dogs." I made a mental note to register that in my cover story. Before he could say anything, I spun around and walked - briskly - to the water fountain. I liked defending for Anna.

Dillon and Justin: 0. Me: 1. __


	7. Cammie's Breakdown

I felt someone's presence behind me as I fiddled with my locker, and I figured it was Justin. My super-CIA-legacy spy skills must be amazing, because I was right.

"So. You haven't told me your number yet." Ha. He was still after something that didn't exist! Of course, it's not like I can tell him that the Gallagher Academy has a signal scrambler – way too strong for cellphones to exist – since we're spies and all. No, instead I did what spies our trained best to do: lie.

"I would, but my mom doesn't want me to have one because of monetary reasons. I think she thinks I'd text away our budget." A lie, but an easy one. I wasn't ready for his response, though. At all.

"What does your dad think about it? Is he the protective kind or the spoiling kind?" I think my heart dropped to my intestines and my lungs were infiltrated by lots of dust. My eyes started to burn, but I kept my tears from forming. I quickly gained my composure, startled that just the mention of my dad could extract that much emotion from me.

Justin picked up that it was obviously a tender subject for me, and gently said, "It's okay if you don't want to answer that, Cammie." But I wouldn't be weak. I would hold strong, for my sisters, for me, for my dad. I quickly came up with an alibi.

"No, it's okay. He was killed. A few years ago, before middle school. In a car accident. He was hit by a drunk driver, and his car spun out into oncoming traffic." I heard the bell ring, but Justin motioned for me to continue.

"He died before I could get to the scene." I was surprised at my lying abilities. My cover sounded realistic. But as I thought of the way my dad _really_ died – or at least most likely died – and how I could never talk about it or find out, and I began to cry. _Hard._

I felt Justin's arms wrapping around me; not in a romantic way, but in comfort. He just let me sob it all out of my system, not caring about his wet shirt or the fact that he was supposed to be in class.

Finally, I stopped. I hadn't cried like that since… ever. It's uncharacteristic for me. I was a spy, I was tough, and I didn't cry. Especially in front of a guy that I just met. I know it sounds cliché and all, but I think the bottle where I had stored my emotions from my dad's death had just broken. I took a step back, grabbed my stuff, and turned to Justin again.

"Hey, um, I'm so sorry about that. I'm usually not like this." Justin nodded, telling me with his eyes that it was okay, and that he understood. I continued, "if it's okay with you, I'd like to move our fight to Wednesday. I'm just… not up to hurting anyone right now. I think I'll call in sick and go home. Can you pass on the word? And tell my friends that I'm okay? Just tell them it's about my dad. Please. Thank you, so much."

Justin nodded again, gave me directions to the nurse's office, and left to change his shirt. I faked the symptoms of a seriously bad cold by using and abusing my spy knowledge. I trudged home, taking a seriously-short short cut.

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Bubblegum Guard let me in once he recognized me, notifying my mom I had arrived. She already knew I would be coming, so I wasn't surprised to walk into the foyer and find my mother waiting for me.

"Come with me, Cammie," she said as I neared her. She spun around and began walking to the Hall of History with me close behind. At least I wasn't in trouble. (When I'm in trouble my mom uses my full name: Cameron. It _always _makes me nervous.)

When I entered her office, I was greeted with the wonderful aroma of coffee, and I spotted two mugs of coffee, one made exactly how I like it – with vanilla non-dairy creamer. Oh, Mom was _good_.

"Do you want me to cut to the chase or take the classic approach first? Mom said jokingly. I relaxed and joked back, "Oh, the classic routine of course. Especially since you can't spy on me as easily anymore." She handed me my hot-but-warm-enough-to-drink coffee, and just the smell of it was simply intoxicating. I took a sip, and she began.

"How was school?"

"Fine." I was going to give the classic answers.

"Have you made any friends?"

"Not really."

"Do you like your teachers?"

"I already know everything they're teaching me, but I like how Ms. Meinders, my English teacher, explains things. She's fairly nice. But my geometry teacher doesn't like the Gallagher Academy. Fortunately, I came up with an alibi that will let me evade the rich-girl image. Do you wanna hear it?" My mother agreed, and I explained my cover. She liked it well enough, I guess.

"And tell me, Cammie, why are you home three hours, forty-seven minutes and sixteen seconds before you're supposed to be?" My mom questioned without looking at a clock. I know I do that sometimes, too, but it's still a little freaky. But fortunately, I was somewhat-prepared for this question. I could:

A) Explain everything that happened in such amazing detail that it takes too long for my mom to find out the real reason.

B) Evade giving a probably-awkward answer by drugging my mother and running away to New York City.

C) Ask my mom what was really on my mind.

Option C was probably the most dangerous, but that the one I chose. I took a deep breath, and hoped my mom would truly answer me this time. I needed to know.

"Mom, what _really_ happened to Dad? How did he die?" Somehow, I felt liberated just to ask that so flat-out. I didn't hear any reaction from my mom, but I heard her walk toward her locked filing cabinet. I looked up from my coffee and saw her open the cabinet and pull out a file.

"Cammie, you're not a little girl anymore. You've done well in CoveOps, and matured greatly. You have reached the clearance to find out. She plopped the folder in front of me, and left, telling me that she'd be in the P.&E. barn. I grabbed the folder and went to my hall.

Over the past year, I had moved my beanie-bag from my dormroom to my hidden hall. By now, I had a beanie bag, a lamp, a rug, and a small bookshelf. This was my place where I went when I wanted to be truly alone and comfortable. I turned on the lamp, plopped down, and opened the file. The information I found shocked me.

**Ooh, cliffy. ;) I might not be able to update for a while because of school and all. It starts Monday! :/ Anyways, happy belated New Year's! R&R, please.**


	8. Author's Note

**Sorry, everybody. I'm grounded, indefinitely. : ( **

**I know you were expecting a new chapter, but that may not happen for a while. My parents 'do not approve' of some of 'the content being written on this site'. Yea, I know. And yes, that does mean that I'm sneaking on the computer right now.**

**Once again, my apologies. The good news is that this means I have a while to write in my notebook, so once I can get on the computer again I should be able to post a loooong chapter. : )**

**This is Chris, saying 'see you in the parole files'!**


	9. The Folder

Photos poured out everywhere. Suddenly, I was looking at a cute seven-year-old boy, an attractive male junior at prom, and a young man in gown at a college graduation. I saw my dad playing guitar in Montana, throwing M&M's at a gorgeous, familiar woman, and studying a pink, squirming baby girl just introduced to the world. (Which, by the way, was yours truly.)

I spent an hour studying a side of my dad I had never seen. It was like I was in a studio, watching as my dad grew up in a glass room. I didn't know if I was supposed to laugh or cry. So I did both. (I mean, seriously: it's hard _not_ to laugh when you see your dad dressed up as Little Red Riding Hood for an eight-grade play… then get stuck in the costume and wear it to school for two days.) Finally, I finished going through the photos, which ended in my elementary years, about two years before he died.

Then came all of the weird stuff. I saw his fourth-grade report card (straight A's), the map to his high school (who names their team the _Farmers_?), and his wedding invitation (where the heck is Grove's Corner, Montana?!!). There was his ticket on his first airplane flight, his acceptance sheet into the CIA, and the reservation sheet for the hotel where my parents spent their honeymoon. (Because all normal couples decide to go to Siberia for their honeymoon. _Not._)

I glanced at my watch. 5:36PM Eastern Time. I scanned the information strewn everywhere, and it dawned on me that there were no mission reports or assignment sheet. I mean, I'm only sixteen, but even I have some stashed somewhere. Seriously, did my mom think I wouldn't notice?! I quickly sifted through the stuff. There had to be something, somewhere! Finally, I found a sheet, an assignment sheet. Maybe it was his first or something? It had to be important. I slowed down, sat back, and read it.

**Operatives: Christopher Morgan, Joseph Solomon.**

**Objective: To locate, study and infiltrate the headquarters of the Circle of Cavan for further missions. **

**Fatality Possibility: High.**

**Location: Rosebud, Virginia.**

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Pros and Cons of Living in the Same Town Your Dad Died In:

Pro: It makes for a good, poetic biography.

Con: It's hard to write about said biography 'cause you're a bit shellshocked.

Pro: You start seeing your dad everywhere you turn.

Con: You start seeing enemy agents everywhere you turn.

Pro: You brush up on your safety tactics.

Con: You can't help but think that even the best safety tactics can't keep you safe.

Okay, have I mentioned recently that going to public school as a spy is REALLY FREAKY?! Especially when, say, your teachers could possibly be really good undercover enemy agents and might have killed your father and want to kill you? C'mon! Can't a girl get some good Secret Service protection around here?!

And have I also mentioned that I seriously love Bex?

"I still think we should investigate the city, find out who the bloody Cavan agents are, and kill them in their sleep!"

"Bex! You know how much trouble that would get us in? Actually killing someone?! We would get kicked out! Or WORSE!" You really can't blame Liz for wanting to keep everyone out of trouble. She's too sweet. Macey, on the other hand…

"Wait, we're supposed to kill them in their _sleep_? But that takes all the fun out of it!" I shook my head.

"Guys, we're sophomores. I really don't think we should be trying that. Especially considering me and Macey's history with this particular group."

It was as if suddenly a light bulb went of inside of everyone's head. One that made things get _really_ quiet.

"So…" started Bex. "Maybe they were after you…"

"Because of your dad?" finished Liz. She jumped in quickly.

"It totally makes sense! I mean, since you're his daughter and all, and maybe he did some damage to their HQ-"

"Which he totally bloody would have!" interjected Bex. Liz sent a glare, then finished.

"Then you are probably a target! Cammie, do you know what that _means_?"

Macey, who had been really quiet since the whole light-bulb thing, finally spoke up.

"Of course she does. Look at her forehead." I cringed. Macey was right of course, and my bruise hadn't fully healed yet, but it still hurt. Not the bruise I mean. The memory was what hurt.

"Have you talked to your Mum yet about it?" Bex asked, a bit more concerned than before.

"Yea. She knew that before. As usual." I flopped on my bed. I didn't quite get it.

"And yet she sent you anyways?" The way Liz said that, it sounded more like a question than a statement. "Why?"

"I don't know! She said it would be a "highly educational training experience" and that it really wasn't "such a dangerous situation". But still… it's not so much as my safety as the thought that someone in that town – who I might actually _know_ – probably was the one who…" I couldn't quite finish my sentence, but it didn't matter. They knew what I meant.

Bex opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the bell announcing it was time for dinner. (Which I sorta already knew, juding from the aroma promising some really good tacos.) It was followed by the announcement that we would be speaking in Swahili tonight, and that the seventh grade class needed to stop spraying Mr. Mosckowitz with hairspray/high-stick glue. Then Bex continued.

"Just remember, we're here for you. And besides, you go to a school with teens, not the bad guys. You'll be okay. You're the Chameleon."

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________

I hate alarm clocks. A lot. There's just nothing like an annoying machine to tell you that your hours of blissful sleep are over for the day.

Besides, as of yesterday, alarm clocks mean I have to go to school. _Real_ school. With grouchy teachers and fashion rules and teenage boys and lots and lots of makeup. Well, not for me, but for everyone else. "Getting ready" took on a whole new form in our halls. I was having some serious déjà vu of when Blackthorn came visiting by the time I met Macey at the bottom of the staircase.

"Ready?" she asked. I couldn't help but think that maybe this was as much torture on her as it was on me.

"Only if you are. But it's not like we have a choice." A fact I knew very well, and had spent way too much time thinking about.

"Yea, well the least you can do is look good for it. Don't you _ever_ use eyeliner?"

"Umm… no?" Macey tsked at me, then smiled.

"But that's why we love you, Cam," she said with a wink. Then her attention turned to the balcony where my mother stood, scanning the crowd. She cleared her throat.

"Ladies, please gather," she called. Instantly, the noisy crowd stopped and made their way toward her. "Ladies, as I am sure you are already aware, every day that we spend out of this facility is a day with dangerous possibilities. That understood, please watch your words and your surroundings, and stay in contact with eachother whenever possible. Please use discretion in your actions. Your transportation is waiting outside. You are dismissed."

And just like that, the din of chatter began again, going on full volume. We made our way into the limousines, and I felt myself withdraw in the midst of the noise. Bex sneaked up beside me, dragging Liz by the hand, followed by Macey.

"What, did you think you were riding to school in a different bus than us? Not a chance!" she declared.

"And not a bus, either," I noted. Macey had to comment.

"Ah, but that's where you're wrong. We happen to be spoiled brats. This is normal to us, and anyone who rides in less is obviously inferior," she said with a smirk.

"That's _your_ cover, remember? Not mine. I'm at the Gallagher Academy on scholarship."

"Yes, which means that you get to be our eyes and ears, dear Cameron," Bex said. I know that look. It commonly makes a debut in my nightmares. "_YOU_ can blend and connect with the commoners in a way we just can't. You can go behind enemy lines!"

As if that was something fun.

"And what if I don't want to?" I questioned. Seriously, it's sorta _my_ life (not to mention grades) we're talking about here!

"Cammie, the chances of you coming into contact with someone who would want to damage you – as long as you don't hang out outside of school – are 1 to 18,347." Leave it to Liz to calm a girl's heart with numbers.

"Well… if you put it that way… are you sure?" (Just had to double check. Y'know. For my blood pressure and all.)

She nodded.

"Well, then. I guess that means my new nickname is Eyes and Ears."

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

Okay, so you would've thought that arriving at school today would be exactly like it was yesterday. But nooo. Today reminded me of that time when I was waiting for Josh and therewas no one anywhere.

We pulled up, and things were really quiet. I didn't see anyone outside, and the sky was really gray. And it was raining. (The weatherman had said there was a 10% chance of rain.) I looked down at myself. A tee-shirt, shorts, and Converse. Not exactly rainy-day clothes. That's when the whole nobody-home picture changed.

The center set of double doors opened, and my class watched as fifteen teenagers walked out in single file. Armed with umbrellas, gratefully. We went through the whole name-calling thing again, and I was last. (At least some things don't change.)

"Well, Miss Cammie. I see you're looking well today," Justin said with a smirk. This guy really reminded me of Zach. "How is your cold this morning?" he asked as we walked toward the school.

I couldn't help it. I sneezed.

"Does that answer your question?" I responded with my own smirk. (Because I'm one of the healthiest girls in my class.) He laughed and opened the door for me.

"Can you teach me how to do that? Pleease?" Okay, first a smirk, now puppy eyes. Is there no end to the masquerades?!

"Well, of course! As long as you buy me lunch for the week after I win," I replied.

"Not on your life. I'm not _that_ desperate."

"Hmm. Desperate. Now there's a word that looks good on you." I said. This was fun.

"Just like 'Major Gallagher Girl Attitude' looks great on you," he responded, a bit edgier than a joke. He opened the door for our first-period class, and gestured for me to enter.

"Sorry."

"It's okay." He warmed up, then as we sat down, continued in lower tones. "So... when will you be giving me that number?"

Okay, I laughed. I admit it. Here I was, trying to push the whole 'a spy group is out to kill me' idea from my head, and Justin continues to ask the same stupid question. You just gotta love it.

"Justin, I think I should tell you something," I said with a sudden seriousness. He leaned closer, as if I were telling him a life-threatening secrets. (Of which i had a few, but I wasn't about to tell him that.)

"I. Don't. Have. One."

"Seriously? You're what, sixteen?" He seemed amazed. Like I'm from Mars or something.

"Um, yeeaaa... see, I'm a big texter, and my mom only has so much money budgeted for a phone, so I just do without. And we're not allowed to use the phones at the Academy," I said, praying that my answer didn't sound _too_ unusual. Score. The look of bewilderment melted and was replaced with understanding sympathy.

"Ooh... sorry. Well... anyways. Are we still on for this afternoon?" What's this afternoon?, I thought. Fortunately, my spy head works pretty fast.

"Only if you brought an ice pack for yourself," I said, suddenly realizing that the teacher was glaring. At me.

"Miss Morgan, if you would please see me after class. Mr. Parker, you should come too."

Yea, seriously - two days of school, and I'm already in trouble.

Fun.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

**Okay guys, sorry it's not as long as I wanted it to be. But at least you got a new chapter after sooo many months. (Hold on – gotta do my 'YES!! Ungrounded… finally!!' dance…) This is still pretty hard for me to write, as I am homeschooled and always have been homeschooled. (For those who think it's cool: it's actually reeaally overrated.) Thanks for being such great readers! :D**

**So… tell me what you think. ;)**


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